


Even God Can't Stop This Love

by Orange_Coyote



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Because it's Wade, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Identity Issues, Light Angst, M/M, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Pining, Priest AU, Priest Peter Parker, Sexual Humor, Spideypool Priest Fest, Work In Progress, vague cameo from prof x don't get excited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/pseuds/Orange_Coyote
Summary: Peter Parker is Spider-Man. But who does he become when he can no longer be a friendly neighborhood hero?Cue a new path, a lot of introspection, and the one and only Wade Winston Wilson.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 23
Collections: Spideypool Priest Fest 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest of shout outs and dedications to the most wonderful TsukiWolf for encouraging me in this, for telling me it's great, for coming up with the title and helping with the summary, AND for being an overall amazing person.  
> All the love in the world to SpiderKatana and Doctoring for setting this event up!  
> I am not religious in the slightest so we're just going to treat this as a crack fic and I hope everyone either enjoys it or laughs so hard they can't breathe :]  
> I feel like I'm forgetting things as far as the summary and the tags go, but oh well

When Spider-Man took a fall, he usually got through it somehow. Sometimes Iron Man caught him, sometimes he landed on top of Wade, and most of the time he either caught himself at the last minute or managed a nest of webbing to land on. He was no stranger to falling, no stranger to injuries all across the spectrum.

So when the doctor whom May had sneaked into his apartment in the middle of the night after an insane battle with half the Sinister Six told him, "One more fall like this, and you'll be paralyzed for life. I have to advise you give up the gig, Peter," Peter felt a piece of his soul break away. He looked over at May, sad eyes meeting his own, and sighed. From that moment, Spider-Man no longer existed.

Peter sat around for weeks mourning the loss of his alter ego, lost without the livelihood that had given him a purpose. If he couldn't be out in the world protecting the innocent citizens of his Queens neighborhood, what was he even good for? He couldn't protect his uncle, his friends, himself. And now his reckless abandon made it so he couldn't be Spider-Man. What was the point of living?

May did her best to keep him moving. Cleaning the house, going out for grocery shopping, volunteering at local homeless shelters. Peter trudged along on autopilot, doing what he was asked without processing anything beyond a simple directive. He looked dead, he felt dead. Seemed appropriate since a large part of him had died when he put the suit away for good.

Then one weekend May dragged him to a church service, where the man in charge talked about how community based action could make all the difference between a criminal and a good person living with bad circumstances. The man's words were enough to reach Peter's heart, something he'd come to think had been lost forever.

After the service ended Peter went and talked to the man, Father Xavier. He shared insights about how church work had helped him turn from feeling hopeless and instead he now felt he had a purpose again. Following the betrayal of the man he loved, Father Xavier had hidden himself away within the rectory near his childhood home and taken to priest's robes like a fish takes to water.

A few hours later, Peter found himself apprenticed to this man in this church. The place was called St. Margaret's, ironically enough.

In the passing months since Peter Parker became solely Peter Parker, his phone had blown up with messages from other supers asking after him. No one had tried to make contact as much as Deadpool, not that Peter was really surprised by that.

He resigned from the Avengers, citing some personal issues, so no one called him now. He didn't mean anything to them if he wasn't useful on the team. He figured the news would spread from there, seeing as the whole lot of them were gossips. And when Wade had left 25 voicemails and 87 text messages, Peter knew he had been right.

He wanted to talk to Wade, but what could he say to him? How could they still be friends when trouble followed the mercenary around every corner? What would being friends now accomplish? It wouldn't change Peter's situation. And if he's being honest, he'd admit that seeing Wade in his suit and hearing story after story about taking out bad guys would only bring envy and jealousy and resentment. That was the last thing Peter wanted.

So he just went MIA, broke that phone into tiny un-salvageable pieces, and took to the church. He lived and breathed the dusty motes of air in the rectory, he buried his nose in the books Charles -- Father Xavier -- recommended, and he told May not to worry about him anymore.

Day by day things felt easier. He was less obsessed with the loss of his mask and more preoccupied with helping people on the ground. Food drives for the underprivileged, job fairs for reformed convicts, workshops and AA meetings and NA meetings. Soon enough Charles deemed him ready and let him deliver small sermons at Sunday services. Peter saw it as the honor it was and took his new duties seriously.

If he doesn't laugh or smile nearly as much as he used to, that's neither here nor there. If he can't find it in himself to be anything other than serious and cynical, that doesn't make him care any less about remedying the state of his neighborhood. Eventually the congregation warms up to him, other than the resident sticklers. Peter doesn't take it personally. You can't please everyone.

Months pass in the same way, seasons changing before Peter's eyes. He's not happy, but he's okay. He has a purpose that convinces him to wake up every morning and fall into bed exhausted every night. Who knew helping to run a small local church and all its duties would be so much work? Peter starts looking forward to giving his weekly sermon, studiously researching scriptures and working to seamlessly combine anecdote, scripture, and life lessons in a way that is neither tedious nor pedantic. It's a life, his life now.

So color him surprised when Wade Wilson slips into the last pew, hood tugged low over his brow. How does Peter know it's Deadpool? The blood stains give him away, but Peter would know those broad shoulders anywhere.

If Peter happens to stare at the back wall with a burning intensity as he delivers his sermon a little faster than usual, no one makes any comment. If he scurries out from behind the pulpit with nary a parting word, only mutterings greet his odd behavior.

Safely ensconced within the private office he shares with Charles whenever the man happens to be around, Peter takes a moment to just _breathe._ Long, deep, all encompassing breaths meant to tame his ratcheting anxiety. Where did Wade come from? How did he know where to find Peter in the first place? Why was he there? What did he want?

Peter crept to the door, peeking around the corner to ensure the pews were empty before he left the solace of the office. He hoped Wade's appearance was just a one time thing, but with his luck he didn't plan to bet on it.

Fast forward to the following Wednesday, the day when people from around the neighborhood gathered to help keep their parks clean and look after one another's needs. Peter stood at the door of the church, handing out trash bags and gloves to each person in line before him.

"Thanks, Father Parker."

Peter's head jerked up faster than he could suck in a breath, knowing Wade stood before him but still not quite able to believe it. He kept his face passive, gave a quick nod of acknowledgement, then moved on to the next person in line. He didn't see Wade for the rest of the day, but he could feel eyes on his back every now and again.

When Sunday morning rolled around yet again, Peter knew Wade would be there. He could feel it, in his spidey senses but more so in his bones. A buzz of anxiety pushed through his veins as he took his place behind the pulpit, followed by a heady rush of anticipation. He'd been numb for so long, and now the mere thought of Wade brought out a barrage of emotion. He had to stay calm, get through this service with the demeanor his congregation knew and appreciated. He could do this.

Peter greeted each person and welcomed them to the church, mentally keeping track of the pews slowly filling. First the dedicated followers who attended services twice a week and volunteered at all events, then the once-a-week members, and eventually those who had children to wrangle or difficult lives to schedule around made their appearances. Wade hadn’t shown himself yet, which Peter decided to take as a sign. He waited an extra five minutes past eight o’clock, just in case, and then headed inside when it seemed obvious no one else would be arriving.

“Good morning, everyone.”

“Good morning, Father Parker.”

“I’m glad to see you all here. Today, being so close to Christmas, I felt it prudent to focus my sermon on the topic of obeisance, of forbearance, of faith. It can be too easy to lose ourselves to hopelessness, loneliness, or despair. But it does not have to be so,” Peter assured. “We, as human beings of the church, can find solace and comfort in the arms of our Lord. We can seek to spread kindness among those around us, and push aside those who attempt to lead us down the wrongful path.”

“Amen!”

“Thank you, Tabitha,” Peter dryly commented. “Today’s reading will come from Colossians 13. As it is said: ‘Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth, for ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our God, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with him in glory. Mortify therefore your members which are on the earth; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affection, evil concupiscence, and covetousness, which is idolatry: for which things’ sake the wrath of God cometh on the children of disobedience, in which ye also walked some time, when ye lived in them.”

“God isn’t the only one who comes on the children of disobedience,” said a voice.

Peter looked up, eyes scanning the room for the perpetrator. Everyone seemed perfectly at ease, aside from the woman trying desperately to inconspicuously awaken her slumbering partner. His gaze drifted toward the benches farther down the aisle, though it was unlikely he’d hear someone past the first few pews.

Nothing suspicious or unusual met his eye, so he refocused and continued his sermon. "'But now ye also put off all these: anger, wrath, malice, blasphemy, filthy communication out of your mouth. Lie not to one another, seeing that ye have put off the old man with his deeds; and have put on the new man, which is renewed in knowledge after the image of him that created him.'"

"I have plenty of experience with putting people off, if you know what I mean."

That voice again! Peter squinted his eyes in concentration. He had ignored his spidey powers for so long he'd assumed they'd left him, but he should have known he couldn't escape his own DNA. He kept speaking the words laid out before him, but now he scoured the faces of each member of the church. Row by row passed with no culprit. Eventually Peter found his eye drawn to a man hunched over in the very back of the room, hood pulled securely over his head. Deadpool. Of course.

As if the man could feel Peter's gaze, he slowly raised his head and met Peter's eye. A smile stretched his lips as they moved to say, "Hiya Petey."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Peter finally have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit panic attack in Peter's pov  
> This got waaaay angst-ier than I expected it to be  
> But next chapter (probably the last chapter as well) will see a resolution I promise!!

_\----------_

_Eventually Peter found his eye drawn to a man hunched over in the very back of the room, hood pulled securely over his head. Deadpool. Of course._

_As if the man could feel Peter's gaze, he slowly raised his head and met Peter's eye. A smile stretched his lips as they moved to say, "Hiya, Petey."_

_\----------_

Peter refused to break the calm exterior he'd portrayed to his congregation for the past few months. Though his heart pounded against his ribs, he moved his gaze away from Wade and continued the sermon.

Each word felt like lead, but Peter managed to get through all the points he'd wanted to make. As he wrapped up his final thoughts, petitioners began to line up in the middle of the aisle for a private moment of contrition. Usually only a few people would choose to see him but, since the holidays were near, the line took up nearly twice as much time.

Peter smiled and shook hands, gave advice or forgiveness, and laid a comforting hand on the shoulder of each person as they stepped forward, his mind on the opposite side of the room. He fought every instinct to peek over Thomas Patterson's shoulder to see if Deadpool had left or had kept his seat. He nodded and tutted sympathetically as Mrs. Munson described this week's hardships.

Eventually only two people remained to be spoken with. Peter mentally sighed in relief, already anticipating the welcome solitude his office would provide.

Of course, Parker luck reared its head at the most inopportune moments.

He really shouldn't have expected otherwise.

He did his best to ignore Wade's presence looming at the end of the line, he really did, but Peter's mind whirred through every possibility of his inevitable confrontation with Wade. Would the man be angry? Upset? Cold? All of which would be justifiable.

"- and so I ask that you pray for him, Father Parker. Pray he finds the better path and accepts the light."

Peter nodded absentmindedly, saying, "And so it shall be done." He hoped he hadn't unknowingly agreed to something he shouldn't have. At the moment he couldn't focus his thoughts on anything besides the man just a few feet away. A man he'd not shared a full conversation with in nearly a year. A man who had accepted Peter, without sighing in annoyance at his dorky awkwardness or blinking in blank confusion at his various nerdy pop culture references like so many others had.

"Goodbye, Mr. Porter."

Peter watched the man leave, avoiding Deadpool's gaze for as long as it seemed feasible. Eventually he had to face the music, and turned his gaze onto Wade.

Looking into the shadows of Wade's hood, Peter found himself struck speechless. What could he possibly say?

The other man lowered his hood, his eyes as bright as Peter remembered them. "Cat got your tongue, Spidey?"

"Don't call me that," Peter responded. A reflex he'd developed since he fell fully into his life with the church.

Wade winced and shuffled back half a step. "Sorry. Peter."

"Why are you here?" Peter had his suspicions, but the scientist buried within him needed empirical data straight from the source. "Why do you keep coming back?"

Hand on his neck, Wade shrugged. "To be honest, I was worried when you didn't respond to my texts. Didn't even tell me to shut up or leave you alone, which is what you normally do when you're in a downswing mood. So I asked Weasel if he could find anything."

"You told someone about my secret identity?!" Peter shouted in a whisper. No one remained in the building to hear them, but some habits died hard and others were better off dead.

"If it helps, he already knew. Looked into you as soon as he realized I wasn't going to ever shut up about Spider-Man." Wade smiled a small grin. "Not like he shares secrets anyway."

A wash of annoyance flushed through his veins, but Peter merely sighed. He twisted to the side to stare at the wall so Deadpool wouldn't see the emotions welling up beneath his skin. "Well, I'm here and I'm alive. You don't need to worry anymore."

"I know. Figured that out the first time I showed up. But…"

Peter glanced back at the mercenary -- did Wade still murder for hire? -- and softened upon seeing nervousness in the other man. He may be tough and nigh immortal, but he was human just like the rest of them. Fingers twitching against his thigh, feet turned inward. Both outward signs that whatever Wade was currently thinking was something he thought Peter wouldn't like to hear. But since the last time had involved admitting he liked anchovies and pineapple on his pizza, Peter had no clue what Wade could be thinking now.

"Wade," Peter said, voice soft. "What is it?"

"Are you happy?" The words rushed from Wade's lips as his eyes locked on Peter's, seeming like he couldn't get them out fast enough. "I… I just want to know if you're happy."

The words sent a sharp shiver down Peter's spine. He'd been so focused on taking life day by day, each task taking up his mind and keeping his thoughts from straying too far. He hadn't thought of being happy, hadn't even considered how that felt, since the day he'd hung up the suit for good. The urge to run took over every limb. _Get away go where it's safe go now run -_

"I don't know," Peter murmured, pushing his irrational thoughts aside for the moment. "All I know is I can't go back."

"I missed you, Petey, just so you know. All your snark and the way you eat burritos. How your lip quirks just the tiniest bit when you're trying not to laugh at your own joke." Wade took a step forward, arms tight against his sides as if he was using all the willpower he possessed to resist reaching out. "I missed texting you about the newest episode of Westworld and sending llama memes. Leaning against the wall and watching you kick some bad guy butt."

Peter's hands began to shake, trembling more forcefully with every memory Wade brought back to the surface. He just… couldn't. He wasn't that same person anymore.

"I can't, Wade. Please don't try to make me."

Peter hated the tremor in his voice, the way it cracked halfway through the word "please." He was more than this. He had thought he'd moved past the grief of leaving his old life behind, but just one conversation with Deadpool had him on the brink of a panic attack.

"Petey -"

Peter stepped back, dodging Wade's outstretched hand. "No. This isn't real. This can't happen. You can't be here. Just go. Leave!" He shook his head as the other man didn't budge, squeezing his eyes shut. "Wade, I mean it. Leave me alone!" His voice ratcheted higher with each word. "I don't want you here!" he shouted, hands twisted in his hair. "I can't do this!"

"Hey, hey, Peter. Shh. Hey, look. I'm stepping away from you, okay?" Wade made each step of his feet audible. Peter hated him for being so considerate. "Just try to take a deep breath. Can you do that? Just inhale as much as you can," Wade instructed gently. "Tell me what you need. Or don't talk, if you don't want to. Please breathe, Spidey. It's going to be okay. I'll leave."

Peter shook his head frantically. "No, no, no. Just. Don't. Don't come near me. I have to go. I have to get out of here."

Peter bolted from Wade's presence, trusting his instincts to keep him from running into any walls or sharp corners on his way to his private room. Maybe Wade would get the hint and just _leave_ if Peter took the initiative to leave first.

Once he reached his room, he pushed the door shut and winced when it slammed against the frame. He hadn't meant to do that. Well, maybe it would be enough to get his point across.

Peter collapsed onto his tiny twin mattress and curled into as tight a ball as he could manage. The world was pushing down on him, air turning to a steel vise. He tried to blink but the tears in his eyes wouldn't let go. His legs wouldn't stop shaking and every breath felt like a rush of needles prickling the length of his throat.

He hated feeling so helpless, but he knew from past experience that the best he could do was wait it out and try to breathe through it.

He comforted himself with the knowledge he'd never see Deadpool again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest thank you to everyone who is still reading this fic! You're all stars.  
> Writing has been tough for me these past several months but a couple weeks ago I had the urge to write for this story so I brainstormed with tsukiwolf (the best friendly encouragement a person could ask for) and came up with where I wanted this to go. After having it sit around for a while I finally pushed myself to edit and post. Hope it doesn't seem too ooc or odd given how the story began, but this is where my brain took me and I stand by it.  
> In these times I hope everyone is doing well as can be, staying safe and following covid guidelines in your town, and joining the fight for anti-racism to the best of your ability. Maybe you can't be out in the streets or maybe you don't have enough funds to donate money, but you can educate yourself and the people around you or sign petitions or make protestor care kits or volunteer or help you neighbor with shopping. There is no shame in helping in smaller ways.  
> Anyway, stay safe and I wish you all the best <3


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